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winedarkthoughts · 9 months ago

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house of addams (1)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4.3k

— 🍄 summary: hired to look into the mysterious deaths, disappearances, and disturbances in the small town of Farrow's End, you soon meet a certain gang of oddballs who help you connect the dots. and NO, you are NOT taking a liking to them.

— �� content warnings: private investigator!reader, cozy small town mystery/addams family vibes, botanist!yoongi, magical absurdity, bookshop owner!namjoon, barista!jin

— 🕸️ a/n: first chapter! directly influenced by this fic on ao3 by tinyratthief, which is loosely based on the addams family.

series m.list/schedule → next chapter

chpt. 1: new digs

september 16, 2004

If this job has taught you one thing, it’s that the laws of truth can and will be bent by anyone with enough concentrated effort. People come to you to find very specific truths; birth parents, cheating spouses, the details of shady business deals.

But if this job has taught you one thing, it's that the truth will also reveal itself to anyone with enough concentrated effort.

Though, there's always a handful of cases that force you to delve deep into things you’d rather leave buried. Like the person in Oregon who didn't show up in any photographs. Or the small town in Maryland with the strange, centuries-old secret society.

You’ve seen sides of human nature that have left you cynical, distrusting. Some have called you “dead inside,” but you’re not here to brag. Naturally, you are excellent at your job.

And when the Mayor of Farrow’s End, a sleepy town with enough missing persons cases to warrant a Netflix documentary, contacted you about a possible case, you accepted almost instantly.

Even her first correspondence and initial offer were strange. She stated a preference to discuss the finer details in person and in person only, which to you immediately suggested that the entire investigation would be a matter of confidentiality.

You were proven right when you met with her a week later. And while being proven right is usually one of your favorite things, you didn’t exactly expect this.

The offer: investigative services regarding (but not limited to) local missing persons/homicides, ecological disturbances, environmental chemical imbalances. etc.

In exchange for: monthly salary, rent support, covered business expenses.

And above all, everything must remain off the books.

The salary along with the rent support is very generous considering what you're used to, but you don’t tell the Mayor that. You do inform her that, while you wear many hats, you are not an ecologist, nor a chemist.

Mayor Summerbee, a middle-aged Asian woman with a sweet smile and even warmer eyes, informs you that you will have access to the local University’s college of natural sciences. She gives you the contact information for one Min Yoongi, a botanist who works in the school's research department.

Then she gives you the contact information for one Kim Taehyung, the town coroner and pathologist. Apparently, both of them will be available for consultation.

She is eager, maybe even desperate, smiling at you with an urgent sheen in her eyes.

When you accept her offer, shaking her hand with your usual firm grip, she seems to exhale in relief.

You move to Farrow’s End by the end of the week. It’s not as if you have much to move, just a trunkful of books and a handful of duffel bags. You’ve always moved around for work, and even if you didn’t, staying in one place for too long makes you nervous.

Your bags hit the pavement beside your boots as you survey your new home. It's a small, quaint house. The paint is faded but the architectural structure is sturdy. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room. The whole place is in a slight state of disrepair, but you can't complain.

You spend the next day cleaning and unpacking, which doesn't take long since you leave most of your books in the trunk. You're exploring the town by the end of the afternoon.

The town square, though full of shops and businesses, is nearly barren. A few civilians putter around, their faces weathered and reflective of the gloom in the air. They stare at you as you pass by, a cocktail of curiosity and slight suspicion.

The next thing you notice is the posters. They're everywhere, on the crumbling brick walls, stuck on lampposts, taped to the windows, all displaying a variety of subjects. Events at the University, local night markets, antiques for sale.

But there are a few that stick out. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE LAKE! Sign the petition to restrict land access →

HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? You're not alone, contact a psychic today!

BEWARE! DO NOT FEED LOCAL WILDLIFE.

Though, what's more strange to you is what you don't see. There are barely any missing person posters, and the few that you do see appear to have been ripped away.

Work begins now, you think to yourself as you snap some photos of several posters, flapping in the cold wind.

You pop into the general store to pick up some essentials, and the store clerk immediately recognizes that you're not a local.

He asks where you're from, you reply with the standard answer: a city not too far but not too close. He asks what you're doing here, you reply with the standard answer: you're a journalist. You add in the suggestion that you're working with the University about a story, and he doesn't question any further.

You're not sure if it's because he takes the hint or because he loses interest.

During the drive home, you notice something looming in the distance. Atop the highest hill is a dark house, with spires and towers rising from the tops of spindly trees. Even from here, you can see that the architecture is old and ornate, almost ancient in a hypnotic way. You're fairly certain you can see a murder of crows circling above.

An unusual feeling hangs around the house, like there's some kind of aura surrounding it. Welcoming some, yet blocking others.

Very strange indeed.

You spend the rest of the night huddled next to the fireplace, using the flickering orange light to skim over newspaper clippings.

No, the house does not have a heating system. But you don't mind too much, you have plenty of wood and warm clothes.

Five missing and three dead in the last year. Local law enforcement has done everything they could with what they had to work with, which apparently wasn't much. Scattered locations, no visible connection between the victims, and an alarming lack of evidence.

Eyelids heavy, you leave the papers scattered across the floor and head to bed, already looking forward to tomorrow's first coffee.

september 17, 2004

The University appears to be just as old as the rest of the town. Original wood, aged stone, curved iron accents. The brick walkway is slick with morning rain, and the sky is swirling with fog.

Perfect weather, it makes you ready to get to work.

The directory stated that Min Yoongi would be in Montgomery Hall, the natural sciences building, either in the greenhouse or in one of the labs, according to the TA you talked to earlier on the phone.

It takes some wandering, but what you like about this place is that people don't seem to notice your presence as much as they do in town. Out there, you're an easily identifiable outsider. Here, you're just another passerby with a purpose.

You find him in one of the lab rooms, tucked into a little nook that's encased with plastic sheeting, dotted with beads of moisture. The small space is crowded with greenery, big pots of tall plants with fanning leaves, draping vines from wall planters, seedlings in little trays.

Through the condensation dripping down the plastic walls, you can see that he's spraying the plants down with water, wearing a classic white coat.

You're indulging in your bad habit again. Your footsteps are notoriously quiet (you've been told), and you (apparently) have a tendency to sneak up on people and observe them for several minutes before they notice that you are there.

But it's a skill you delight in.

The man is of average height, thin, black hair, delicate features. You notice that the soles of his boots are caked with mud, and his skin is dewy from the humidifiers pumping moisture into the room.

"You already know my opinion on this," you hear him say, muffled by the spray of the water.

For a moment, you think he's talking to you, that he's rejecting your case before you've even presented it to him. But he isn't facing you, and his tone is decidedly casual, like he's talking to an old friend.

"It's bad for the others, anyway," he continues. "Don't wiggle your trigger hairs at me like that."

A pause, the water flow stops. Then a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, one puff. Then you quit pouting, got it?"

There's the sound of shuffling, then the fwick of a lighter being ignited.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step forward to peer through the slit in the plastic sheeting.

There's a Venus fly trap on one of the shelves, and between the jaws of one of the trap mouths, is a lit cigarette.

The man's head piques up when you enter his field of vision. Eyes widening, he looks like a cat that's been caught off guard.

He looks between you and the plant several times. You're fairly certain you see the tip of the cigarette glow ember, as if the plant were actually inhaling.

The man snatches the cigarette away and crushes it beneath the wet sole of his boot.

"Nasty habit," he finally says with a nervous chuckle. An awkward, straight-mouthed smile crosses his face, making his cheeks puff out slightly.

"Min Yoongi?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds politely.

"I'm ______," you say, holding out a hand to shake.

He shuffles forward, his cold slim fingers meeting yours.

"Ah, the mayor mentioned that you'd be around."

That throws you a bit, because from what you've gathered about this case, you assumed that the mayor didn't want to be associated with it.

"Yes, would you mind filling me in on some of the ecological disturbances that have been going on in town?"

It's as if the question sends ants crawling down his spine. His neutral smile dissipates into an anxious twitch of his lips. He turns the hose back on and resumes spritzing the plants.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, a new tension in his voice.

Odd.

"Well," you start, "The mayor tells me that locals have been complaining about strange mushrooms invading their yards, increased acidity in their soil. Would you know anything about that?"

His eyebrows are knitted as he dampens the leaves of a spiraling fern.

"Mushrooms are really just the fruit of fungi, they bloom like flowers when the conditions are just right. Moisture, shade, an abundance of organic material, stuff like that. When it comes to the acidity, there's a variety of factors. All the rainfall recently leads to leaching, and the increased use of fertilizers causes nitrification. It's pretty standard."

You raise an eyebrow. He's deflecting.

"People have been saying that these mushrooms have been particularly hard to get rid of."

Yoongi 's brows furrow as if he's thinking hard.

"Fungi are tricky like that. We don't know much about them, really. They're their own class of life form. It could be a particularly stubborn strain."

"There's also been some unusual plant growth, creeping vines or the like. Very resistant to herbicides, apparently."

He pauses, considers it.

"Hmm," he mutters, the nozzle of the hose going lax in his hand.

“Also,” you continue, trying to further engage his curiosity. “There's been several cases of strange root rot?”

You add a questioning tone to your voice, gauging his reaction. Apparently, he hasn’t heard about it, because he looks up at you with the same question in his eyes.

“Root rot? In household plants?” he asks.

“No, in residencies.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you can tell he’s intrigued.

“I would benefit a lot from your knowledge, if I could just bring you a few samples, maybe go out and do some fieldwork—”

“You wouldn’t like working with me,” Yoongi interrupts. “I’m very…particular.”

You have a feeling the word is meant as a substitute for something else.

“Wonderful, so am I,” you reply, digging one of the many notebooks out of your bag. Flipping to the calendar, you click open your open your pen and start scribbling.

“Mornings are best, get the most out of the daylight. Make sure to bring your equipment and something to write on, and a camera if you have one.”

“Wait, I just don’t know if I’m going to be much use to you,” Yoongi says a little nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You pause your scribbling to look at him. He’s pale in the fluorescent light, but not just physically. He has pale mannerisms and pale expressions, the countenance of a person that doesn’t feel as if they belong.

You know the feeling well.

“Coffee is always on me. How do you like it?” you say instead.

“Does Wednesday work?”

september 18, 2004

Three dead and five missing in less than six months. First, Michael Bradley, aged forty-two. Cause of death: chronic poisoning/exposure to toxic chemicals. He was found in his garage surrounded by household cleaners and herbicides. Apparently he’d been trying to get rid of the same strange mushrooms in his yard.

For now, all you have to work with is what they’ve published in the newspapers, and it seems that all that's come out of it is a public service announcement warning homeowners to be careful around toxic chemicals. His wife, Mary Bradley, hasn't commented on the circumstances of her husband’s death. And no one else has inquired any further into the matter.

Until today, obviously. Mrs. Bradley didn't answer her phone, and when you knocked on her door earlier this morning, she seemed less than pleased.

You opened with the standard introduction: I'm a journalist working on a story, would you mind consenting to an interview? Mrs. Bradley narrowed her eyes and scanned you up and down with barely concealed suspicion.

She asked what a journalist would find interesting about a common, accidental death in a small town. Apparently, the citizens of Farrow's End are very perceptive to outsiders.

You mentioned that fact that although Bradley's death appeared accidental, it's not common for people to die at the hands of household chemicals from prolonged exposure. Chronic poisoning is rarely without symptoms, why didn't he go to hospital?

She didn't have anything to say to that. You asked if she'd be comfortable divulging some of the details of his death, maybe even giving you access to the autopsy report. But she just grimaced at the mention, insisting that she had nothing to say about the matter and that you should leave right away.

She slammed the door in your face, but luckily it wasn't the first time people have resisted your questions. Unfortunately, a significant part of your job involves being a pain in the ass.

You linger in the front yard, where it's impossible not to notice the gnarled tree stumps and large rings of mushrooms scattered across the lawn.

You're not a mycologist by any means, but even you can tell that these mushrooms are strange. They seem to be multicolored, red and orange and brown, changing depending on the light like a hologram, but without any of the shine. They aren't bulb-shaped like many other mushrooms, but twist in tendrils this way and that, stretching.

And a smell hangs about them. You can't really describe it, something like damp and musk and old meat. Standing there, breathing them in, for too long makes your head spin.

And the trees, or rather, what's left of them. Nothing but stumps now, but you can tell that they were old when they were cut down. There's that same multi-colored effect to them, except it runs in veins throughout the tree's bark, spiraling into the rings.

You'll have to ask Yoongi about it.

Curiosity nips at you like a non-venomous snake even after you're home. It's not deadly, but it sure as hell is annoying.

What kind of disease infects fungi and trees? Why would the mayor care about privately investigating such a thing? And a thousand other questions.

You shove your boots on and enter back into the chill. You remember seeing a bookstore in town.

The Magic Shop: Books and Oddities

The front window glows with warm light, crowded with displayed volumes and curiosities (a stuffed raven, a jar of yellowing teeth, insects encased in amber).

The door swings open with the ring of a bell. Someone calls out "Welcome in," in a deep-velvet voice.

The smell of parchment and aged leather envelopes you like a familiar hug. You can't help pausing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. No matter what city you're in, places like this always feel like home.

It's everything that a bookstore should be: crowded, mysterious, and slightly dusty. The shelves are tightly grouped and arranged like a labyrinth few are privy to, and stacks—no, towers—of books occupy every corner.

You enter into the space, feet padding on the braided rugs, eyes drinking in the details. There are labels on the shelves, haphazardly spaced. They start normal enough: gardening, self-help, adventure.

But then you realize that they branch off into even more labels, or rather sub-labels. There's nocturnal gardening, gardening under the influence, Faerie gardens and goblin gardens. Each labeled sub-genre branches into even more specific sub-categories, creating a seemingly endless array of subjects.

You could explore this place for hours. In fact, you intend to over the course of your stay in Farrow's End.

You spend an indeterminate amount of time exploring all the labels and categories. The shelves twist this way and that, creating little nooks where the occasional armchair is tucked into.

Eventually, you come to a more open area with a wide-sprawling desk. The man sitting behind it is tall and tan, glasses perched on his nose, with short chestnut hair that shifts golden in the candlelight.

He's deeply focused on the book in his hands: A Comprehensive Guide to Navigating Parallel Universes and Pocket Dimensions.

Typically, you hate to bother people in a bookstore, especially if they're already reading. It's supposed to be a space for quiet reflection, for self-exploration and uninterrupted browsing. But you still have a job to do, and it's clear that you won't be able to navigate the complicated system yourself. At least, not in a concise period of time.

So you square your shoulders and prepare yourself to address the (handsome, you notice) man at the counter.

"Excuse me," you begin in a hushed voice.

The man's head whips up, as if he completely forgot there was another person here.

"Yes?" He says in that same deep voice, friendly and eager. "Do you need help finding something?" It sounds like he can't quite believe the fact. This place must not get many customers.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

His face lights up as if nothing would delight him more.

"Do you have anything on unusual mushrooms?" you ask.

The man sets down his book and slips out from behind the desk. "Hmm..." he mumbles to himself, expertly weaving between the shelves while you hurry to catch up.

"Let's see here..." he says, passing a wall draped with vines from a hanging planter, like the ones in Yoongi's lab, you notice.

"Fungi," he mutters, fingertips ghosting over the shelves. The sections under Fungi are vast and wide-ranging. Poisons & Antidotes, Moss & Lichens, Carnivorous, Aberrations.

He pauses at that last one, eyes flitting between the volumes.

"Anything specific?" he asks.

You debate on how much to disclose, but with the several cases of strange fungi in people's yards, it's probably common small town knowledge by now.

"Anything about an unusual fungus with...tendrils?" You can't help the hesitation, you're not sure if it's a common feature among mushrooms.

Apparently, it's not as unusual as you thought, because the man only nods and shifts his attention to one of the lower shelves. His slim fingers finally land on an old cloth-bound book with a red toadstool on the spine. There's no title on the cover, but the man seems to be familiar with it.

"Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "I think you'll find what you're looking for in this one."

He says it with the confidence of someone who's read every book in the building front to back. A very specific part of your brain tells you that this fact is almost certainly true.

"Thank you very much," you say, turning the book over in your hands.

"My pleasure," he replies, and means it.

"How much?"

He guides you back to the counter and rings it up for a very good price.

You're itching to ask questions, but you're not sure where to start.

The man places the book into a brown paper bag printed with Magic Shop Books and Oddities and hands it to you with a warm smile.

You lose your nerve and take the bag in silence. Then, as if he could smell the fragmented thoughts darting around in your skull, he says, "Be careful in the woods."

You look at him. There's the same friendly smile, but now with a hint of good-natured curiosity.

"If you're going mushroom hunting, I mean," he adds.

You stare at him for perhaps too long.

"Thanks," you say, dropping a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

"Hope to see you again," he calls out as you exit through the front door.

A moth to flame, bees to honey. Insert: you to coffee shops with perfect ambient lighting. You spot it just as you're leaving the narrow alley that leads to the bookshop.

Turning the corner onto a cobblestone walkway, you catch sight of the cafe windows, slick with the recent rain. But from what you can see through the glass, it looks like a warm, cozy place.

Glancing at the front door, you notice an OPEN sign, even though it's quite late. You're opening the door and stepping inside before you're even conscious of it.

The interior reflects the same aged aesthetic as the exterior, dark wood and brick and brass accents. But the kitchen area houses clean chrome appliances, and there are shelves stacked with white dishes behind them. Golden light warms a glass case fully stocked with a manner of pastries, breads, and other nibbles, all of which still seem to be steaming hot.

You immediately decide that you like this place.

"Good evening," a pleasant voice calls, though you can't yet identify the speaker.

The smell of steam and freshly-ground coffee beans becomes richer as you approach the counter. You can hear someone puttering around in the back room.

You glance at the menu's wide selection, and when you look back at the counter, a man is standing right in front of you.

You don't scare easily, but it's enough to make you jump a little.

"What can I get you?" the man asks cheerfully. He's tall and slim, wearing a white button-up and black slacks under an apron. Brown hair, dark eyes, and a full smiling mouth.

You order a coffee and a pastry.

"What time do you close?" you ask, wanting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere but also not wanting to be the asshole that settles in just before closing.

"On Wednesdays we close at noon, otherwise we're open twenty-four hours," he replies, sounding delighted by rather than annoyed by the fact.

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? You really like this place.

He must see your eyebrows raise in surprise, because then he proudly adds, "Only one in town."

Pleasantly surprised, you look around the shop to assess the seating options. There are booths tucked along the walls, a few tables and chairs, and a few plush-looking armchairs near the windows.

"Please, have a seat and make yourself at home. I enjoy the company," the man says as he makes your drink.

You take him up on it, settling into one of the chairs by the frosted glass of the window. It's then that you take a closer look at the book the shop owner recommended.

A fraying cloth-bound cover, a red toadstool instead of a title. Inside, a table of contents. First, a bit of basic mycology, which you greatly benefit from. Immediately after, a range of mutations, circumstances, and environmental factors that caused the direct disturbance to said mycology.

You get lost in it quite easily, sipping your drink (which is expertly brewed) and nibbling your pastry (which is almost too delicious for words). You know that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time here throughout your stay in Farrow's End.

The book cites several case studies, all suggesting that a new strain of fungus is not only spreading rapidly, but infecting all other strains it has access to.

You read on, only momentarily distracted by the occasional customers that enter into the establishment. Like the group of students, most likely from the University, who order a large batch of espresso to-go. Or the old man who orders a sandwich and black coffee and sits outside despite the late-night chill.

You don't realize it, but you read on until the early morning. The first few faint, pale rays of sunlight stretch across your current page through the window, and you jerk to attention when you realize what time it is.

Not that you have somewhere in particular to be today. But you've always liked to get a jump on things early on in the investigation. And you have better luck getting interviews during the day.

You had no idea that time was passing so quickly. This place seems to have an air of particular tranquility, the kind that only a handful of coffee shops are able to achieve. It's the feeling of finding a quiet place after being overstimulated for hours.

You take your dishes to the counter, drop a tip into the jar, and step into the morning chill.

Exhaustion sets in on the journey home, and you crash moments after your head hits the pillow.

The dreams start that night.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! love to hear any of ur thoughts 👉👈

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#bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts mystery #bts x fem!reader #bts series #bts f #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff

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tealvenetianmask · 4 months ago

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Hell's royalty has a culture that enables Stella's abusive behavior.

Point 1: Keeping up appearances is valued above all else. And I specifically mean the appearance of things being the way they're supposed to be. Conformity basically.

Conformity in this culture seems to include a kind of stoic dignity ("you know excitement is unbecoming of a goetia"), an air of superiority ("don't bow to that one- he bows to us!"), and, of course, some good old fashioned toxic masculinity ("cease this bitch crying").

Individuals at the very top are not immune. Even though he gets past it, Asmodeus seems to spend a lot of time and effort on keeping his relationship with Fizz quiet in order to keep up the appearance of fulfilling his "lust" role.

Point 2: The members of the aristocracy who don't conform are seen as the problem, not the members who are being cruel.

Speaking of Ozzie, there's a chance he'll face real consequences for getting out of line . . . Mammon seems pretty confident about getting revenge. Also, if Ozzie had decided that his reputation was important enough to avoid stepping in to help his partner, well . . . I'm just saying. Cultures of conformity create bystanders who stand by and let abuse happen. So it's good that this guy has the courage (and a good heap of privilege and power) to enable him to step out. Yes, I realize that the crowd at Mammon's celebrated Ozzie and Fizz, but the crowd was distinctly NOT aristocratic.

Now look at Stella's party- this woman is not subtle about being cruel to her husband.

She calls the party a "Not Divorced" party. She openly talks negatively about Stolas in a blatant attempt to humiliate him. She's not trying to hide that she hates the man.

Because he's . . . an oddball. Gentle, not as polished as others in his social sphere, awkward and mostly friendless, probably autistic. And importantly, I think, not traditionally masculine.

So Stella has no need to hide that she treats him poorly. She's proud of it. And her social circle seems to support her in it, or at least, they don't push back. Because based on the aristocracy's unspoken (or if we look at Paimon, very much spoken) value system, Stolas's failure to fulfill all of his expected roles gracefully is worse than Stella's cruelty.

Point 3: Stolas's parenting, while much better than his own father's, still reflects this value system in some ways, and that's . . . complicated.

In some ways, Octavia is doing great. She has her own interests (music! gothy fashion!) that don't seem to be based on any role prescribed to her by others. She has a genuine bond with her dad that's based on care and not on molding her into some ideal princess.

But Stolas still puts on an facade in front of Via. We know that he pretended things were fine when they distinctly weren't for most of her childhood. We could argue endlessly about whether Stolas was right (as Georgia Dow explained in her video) or wrong to stop himself from explaining the situation with Stella to Via in Loo Loo Land, but honestly, the man could let his nearly grown up daughter know that abuse was happening without all out trauma dumping. It would enable her to make more informed decisions, and I think she would want to be able to do that.

Instead, Stolas keeps it to himself. Because he feels like Via SHOULD have this picture perfect childhood. Look at the pictures that are up in his palace. Look at his attempt to gloss over the fighting in the household by taking Via to an idealized childhood destination.

A part of him still thinks that good parenting is keeping up appearances, and that the ugly things are best kept hidden. Look at how hard he still tries to avoid crying in front of people. The values he was taught as a child are part of him.

And while it's not his fault (it's Stella's fault, obviously- these are HER actions), his inability to be open allows Stella and Andrealphus to scheme and (we'll see . . .) probably manipulate Via because of her lack of knowledge.

We're meant to see the moments where Stolas breaks expectations and behaves raw and even a little unhinged as triumphant. Sleeping with Blitz. That is the sound of a fucking divorce. Actually going through with the fucking divorce. Insisting on it. Appearances be damned.

And yeah, more of that please. Because if the people around Stella stop caring about aristocratic social trappings, all she'll have going for her is her shitty personality.

Thanks @akirathedramaqueen for inspiring this post with a conversation.

#stolas #my helluva meta #helluva boss #helluva boss stolas #hellaverse #stolas goetia #octavia goetia #stella goetia #asmodeus

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autistic-ben-tennyson · 4 months ago

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“Anakin Didn’t Care About The Clones”

As a way of pushing back against the idea that Anakin was the only Jedi to treat the clones well, many Jedi apologists have argued that Anakin didn’t care about the clones or that his strategies got several killed, at all. Some even act like Anakin was abusive to Rex by cherry picking certain moments such as asking Rex to keep his marriage secret, running to Padme instead of Rex or Ahsoka after the Blue Shadow Crisis or the time he and Ahsoka threw Rex off that wall on Geonosis. Do people not understand the difference between comedic slapstick and abuse?

Was Anakin’s treatment of the clones perfect? No, all Jedi-clone relationships suffered from power imbalance and the clones being unable to leave as Cut and Slick pointed out and he wasn’t the only Jedi to treat the clones as individuals. What he did as Vader when he used them to storm the temple was despicable and as a former slave, he should have advocated more for their rights. Yet Anakin, before falling, valued the clones as individuals and encouraged free thinking in his men. In legends he struck up an odd friendship with Alpha 17 and gave him his nickname as well as encouraging him to do so for the gen 2 clone commanders he was training who would become Cody, Appo, Oddball, Thire, Bly, Gree, Neyo and Bacara. As Vader, he still held a fondness for Commander Appo and was somewhat dismayed by his death.

As for canon, his friendship with Rex was one of the closest of Jedi-clone bonds. Rex trusted him with his life as he reminisces in Rebels and Anakin was willing to share his secret about his marriage with Padme. Asking your friend to keep secrets, unless actively harmful, is not abuse. Nor is asking your friend who has the equipment to do so to assist in training your student like in TOTJ. It wasn’t just Rex that he cared for though. He encouraged Dogma to take breaks and be less of a stickler as seen in the clip below which also shows him complimenting Rex’s ingenuity and working with him and Fives as a team to evacuate the battalion after being ambushed by Umbarans.

youtube

Continuing on, he showed a great degree of concern for Tup when his inhibitor chip malfunctioned and drove him insane, fighting hard to rescue him. He also was willing to help Rex rescue Echo and work with Clone Force 99. Anakin was one of the few, besides Fives, who actually looked saddened by Echo’s apparent death while everyone else was focused on the shuttle. He later jokes with Echo after rescuing him and despite their squabbles earlier, lets Wrecker have fun blowing up Admiral Trench’s ship.

While not as close as Rex, he seemed to have a genuine bond with Fives as well. Sharing the story of his heroics as a child that inspired Fives’ plan of dissent against Krell and Fives admitted that while reckless, Anakin was always leading his men in the front rather than make them do all the work. Fives was comfortable enough to make dick jokes with him as well as share the information he learned about the inhibitor chips. Anakin complimented his quick thinking and while Fives was always vocal about being seen as a person over a number, one thing they shared in common, it’s implied Anakin is the reason he’s very independent and willing to go against orders for what he sees as right. While Anakin may have gotten defensive when Fives accused Palpatine of being behind the chips, he was still horrified by his death. TCW may be an episodic show but one could interpret that Anakin’s behavior in the Clovis arc was the result of having just lost two people close to him, Fives and Ahsoka, and Padme working with someone who endangered her before had him on an edge, not wanting that to happen again.

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To say Anakin didn’t care for his men based off a few cherry-picked scenes is dishonest and is argued by people who think he was just bad even before falling. Was he perfect or the only one who treated them as individuals? No but he was not just an abusive, uncaring ass. The first scene in ROTS showed him wanting to go back and help the pilot squad. He gave his men like Fives or Broadside difficult tasks not because he didn’t care but because he knew they were capable. I wonder if, from his twisted point of view, Vader saw a bit of Rex and Fives in Veers and Piett due to their efficiency and ingenuity as military officers. Vader was complicit in the enslavement of the clones during Order 66 and needed to answer for it if he lived but to say his relationships with his men prior to that were abusive when there’s no evidence of that in the movies or TCW is lying just to make him seem like an irredeemable monster.

#jedi critical #anti jedi #star wars the clone wars #clone troopers #alpha 17 #captain rex #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #clone trooper tup #clone force 99 #clone trooper dogma #star wars #anakin skywalker #Youtube #darth vader #501st battalion #the bad batch

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queenie-avenue · 1 year ago

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The smell of you drives him insane.

—> why was daniel carrying amortentia in his pocket?

⤻ inspired by @mngo-jii 's post about daniel with the love potion, love potion is not used on you, mutual pining, lovey-dovey, reader is gender neutral, reader is the mc of the game, and reader is charming (in line with the canon of the game), reader is referred to as [y/n], no content warning.

🦋 ⤻ archives.

For days, you had been wondering what in Merlin's beard was Daniel — Daniel Page, the oddball you liked so much — was doing with a potion of the strongest love potion there was, just sitting idly in his pocket. Where had he even learnt to brew such a strong potion? Or did he buy it.

If so, for what purpose.

You rolled around in your bed, rustling your sheets about as you tried to get your mind off the thoughts of Daniel and his love potion. Your rustling had seemed to even disturb Lottie as she groaned and told you to stop rustling about your bed.

"Sorry, Lottie. Just a bit restless is all," you apologised as you got up. You would hate to wake up Lottie or Ivy with your ceaseless thoughts of Daniel, and you couldn't help but flush at the thought of you struggling to stop thinking of Daniel.

God, I really need to stop, you thought.

Still, your curiosity burnt like Incendio. You groaned and finally decided to head to the common room for some reprieve. You were clearly keeping others awake with your brooding, even if they didn't know that it was about Daniel of all people.

"I'll go get some tea from the common room," you whispered to Lottie, informing her of where you'd go before heading outside and descending down the staircase.

Just from the corner of the staircase, you could already hear the bubbling coming from the common room.

"Hey Daniel," you greeted.

"Oh, hi [y/n]," Daniel yawned, as he looked lazily over you.

Was it just you or did his eyes linger a bit too long?

"You couldn't sleep?" Daniel inquired, eyes retreating back into his cauldron of whatever new potion he was brewing.

"Yeah, I kept tossing and turning but I didn't want to wake Ivy and Lottie up, so here I am!" You jokingly added jazz hands to your words.

Daniel seemed to appreciate the joke as he burst out in soft laughter. "Yeah, I couldn't fall asleep either." He continued as you decided to take a seat on the couch, watching Daniel on the opposite side as he continued to stir the cauldron. "You want a potion to help you sleep?" He offered, helpful as usual; even if he didn't like to admit it.

"No, no, it's fine." You shook your head. "I think I'll just watch you brew potions."

"Great, added pressure." He chuckled snarkily. "If you distract me and I ruin this potion, you're helping to clean up."

"Alright." You shrugged your soldiers. You were used to helping around with a lot of things, really. On your first day, you had already helped make a search team to try and find Ivy and well... the rest was history. Heck, even some strangers asked for help, and you couldn't reject them. You thought back to your muggle days and couldn't help but compare it to a video game.

This time, it was your turn to glance over at Daniel. You watched as he skillfully poured some concoction into his cauldron before stirring it. It was like your eyes were some kind of magnifying glass as you zoomed in all the smaller details of his face. His hair was matted to his forehead thanks to the sweat. You knew that the heat needed to brew certain potions was quite strong. You wished you had a handkerchief to pass to Daniel. Or better, to wipe his forehead off with.

Finally, your eyes wandered down to his cauldron, and the questions you kept asking in bed persisted. Just what was he doing with amortentia? Why did he have it? Was he planning to use it on someone? Why didn't he tell you? Why did you feel hurt by the idea the potion was not meant for you?

Just what were you doing with that amortentia in your pocket, Daniel?

His head suddenly snapped up to meet your gaze. Oops, did you say that aloud?

"What?" Daniel asked, his eyes widening into saucers, his cheeks heated up like someone had casted incendio on him.

Well, you came so far, might as well ask. "That day, when we were helping Hagrid, there was a bottle of Amortentia in your pocket." You said. "What were you doing with that? I didn't even know you could brew it! Isn't it a rather advanced potion?" You continued to question, causing Daniel's pale cheeks to continue turning a dark shade of red. You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it.

"I- I didn't brew it." Said Daniel, attempting to focus on the smaller aspects of your interrogation. "I bought it from the Weasley's." He clarified. "I would like to brew Amortentia one day, though! I heard that it's a challenging thing." The boy continued, scratching the back of his neck.

He may think he's slick, but you catch on quite easily.

"Then why did you buy it?" You inquired again, goading him on. "You don't plan to use it on anyone, do you?" She gasped, feeling a bit disturbed by the prospect of Daniel dosing someone else. If that someone was you, though... perhaps you'd be more susceptible to that idea.

"No, no!" Daniel denied hurriedly. "I know better than to practically drug someone, bloody hell." He sighed.

"Then why?" You pressed.

"I just... I just like how it smells." Your eyes widened at the reveal. Of all the things you had conjured in your head, Daniel liking the smell of the potion was something you had not expected. Then you remembered.

"Doesn't Amortentia smell like what or who you're most attracted to?" You recalled. "I read it in one of those potion books you borrowed me."

"Well... yeah. I just, you know, like it."

A pregnant pause filled the room.

"So... what does yours smell like?" You asked.

Daniel seemed to not expect such a bold question as he almost fell off his chair. "I- that's a bit... I don't know! I just know it smells good!" He replied.

"Oh, come on, Daniel, you got me more curious than a cat!" You exclaimed.

"And curiosity killed the cat, just so you know." Daniel replied snarkily.

"Yet satisfaction brought it back to life so please!" You pleaded.

"No!"

"Please, Daniel! I won't ask for anything more!"

This went on for another few minutes until the boy finally caved in. You were honestly top charming for your own good, Daniel could not help but think.

"But I... It's embarrassing."

"Here, I'll smell the potion too so it's embarrassing for the both of us!" You offered with a grin.

How could Daniel refuse that smile? Also, how could he refuse knowing what you were attracted to. If possible, he would brew a potion or some type of perfume that would allow him to smell just like how your Amortentia did.

"Deal." He smirked as he brought out the small vial of Amortentia. He popped open the cap and passed it to you.

You took a whiff of it and immediately froze. There was the scent of your favorite type of candy and your favourite flowers alongside the smell of the pages of your favourite book but... there was also something else. Something... you hadn't exactly expected but also was not shocked by.

The scent of sweet burnt wood, lemon zest and oddly enough, the scent of Daniel's hands; smelling of various herbs he had picked up the other week.

You stared at the potion and took another whiff.

Blimey. You thought.

"Well?" Daniel had leaned in a bit closer after a while.

"Tell yours first." You demanded.

"Ugh... fine." Daniel groaned as his brown eyes fluttered close, focusing on the scent of the love potion. Taking advantage of this, you couldn't help but continue to stare at Daniel, at his auburn hair, his chapped lips that you just wanted to smother your chapstick with. Everything about him was as attractive to you as that scent in the potion.

"I smell... the herbology classroom... not that icky stuff but the nice herbs and all that Professor Longbottom helped us pick," he commented, and you couldn't help but grip your uniform in excitement and anticipation. "I smell smokey wood, kind of like my house and the smell of gold?" He said. Was that all?

Daniel had frozen too.

After a small pause, he carried on.

"I smell [favourite flowers], a bit of [favourite candies] and... and..." His cheeks blushed as his eyes widened, blushing red.

"And what, Daniel?"

"And nothing!" He exclaimed.

"I don't believe you." You shook your head. "Come on, we had a deal. You promised to tell me!"

"Then you tell me yours first! I gave you a sneak preview! I deserve that, at least!" You shook your head at Daniel's words, but if he decided to be coy, you had to be the one to be bold!

"I smell my favourite flowers, my favourite candy, and the pages of my favourite book." You said.

"And?" This time it was his turn to press.

"You." You replied. "I don't know how to describe it." You knew exactly how but you just wanted your words to sink in properly that the Amortentia smelled like Daniel Page himself, so he wouldn't misunderstand. Your cheeks burned as he gazed at you.

"Me?"

"Yeah, wood, lemon zest, and all the herbs you gathered last week with me." You replied, staring straight into his eyes.

Daniel stayed silent for a moment. "I smell... your bedsheets. And your hands." He continued, using a tamer version of what you had confessed to him.

"Nice." Was all you could say.

An awkward silence enveloped the two of you as Daniel looked down at his abandoned potion, which had been all but evaporated by now thanks to him not paying attention to the heat.

"Want to help me brew this essence of dittany?" He asked, all of a sudden.

"Yeah." You smile.

"Come here, then." He motioned for you to take a seat beside him and you obeyed, practically rushing to his side as you read out the instructions.

It was distracting, though, especially with Daniel sitting so close and his nose practically buried in your hair.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

"Should we wake them up?" Lottie asked, looking over at Ivy who was giggling like a toddler.

"No!" She said, perhaps too aggressively, considering that Lottie had stumbled back a bit. "Sorry. I think we should let them rest, it is the weekend, after all." Ivy smiled as she took Lottie's hands and hurriedly ran out the door of the common room.

Ivy ran back to them and quickly took a camera out, though. She just had to capture this picture to tease them about later.

Ivy properly left the common room with an image of Daniel and [y/n] on the couch of the common room; their heads lay against each other, mouths open and slightly drooling with their fingers interlaced.

#daniel page #daniel page x reader #hpma daniel #harry potter: magic awakened #hpma #hpma mc #hpma ivy #ivy warrington #hpma lottie #lottie turner #harry potter

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crevicedwelling · 1 year ago

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Hello! I've been around A LOT of crickets in my life and this is the only time I've seen a white-eyed one. Have you seen anything like this before or is it just very rare?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

very rare! but known to science, where mutants like these have been bred for research.

white-eye mutations seem to be a simple recessive in crickets, cockroaches, and fruit flies although I’m not sure if they operate under the same mechanism (esp. the flies, there’s so many well-studied strains and I don’t know enough about them to say if there’s multiple different mutations resulting in white eyes).

I’m most familiar with white-eyed roaches, bred as hobby pets. apparently they’re much less reactive to light and visual stimulus than wildtype roaches.

in crickets, oddballs are most commonly noted in house crickets (Acheta domestica) bred for feeding to pets. there’s multiple posts on Arachnoboards about people who’ve found mutants in their feeders.

there’s also this cool red-eyed Acheta on BugGuide, also from feeder stock I think

the same species, as well as similar mutants of Gryllus bimaculatus, have been bred in the lab to study their physiology and behavior.

but your find was quite rare, and probably the coolest thing anyone’s sent me all year! I would love to see more photos of the little critter if you’ve got any.

#bugs #Orthoptera #genetics

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honestlyboringperson · 5 months ago

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The mean gay and the even meaner bisexuals. And Pearl. (Persona 5 AU)

Also I just realized that Scott’s yellow eye is in the wrong socket. Eh, too late.

Southlanders

Team B.E.S.T.

Fairy Fort

Magic Mountain + Cub

More Information Below!

Scott - “Prism” - The Star Arcana - Dionysus/Sigyn

Sarcastic yet intensely devoted and loyal, Scott is known for his business “Chromia”. He sells dyed goods along with one of a kind clothing, along with the actual dyes themselves. He’s relatively well known throughout town due to his social media presence, and helps the Phantom Thieves with a calling card utilizing social media. Pearl and Scott are notable for their distaste of each other, which differs from their closeness a few years back. According to him, Scott only really joined the Phantom Thieves for his own amusement rather than agreeing with their goals.

Dionysus is Scott’s persona. Dionysus is the god of wine, revelry, orchards, and madness. I mean, Scott did join the phantom thieves for his amusement, so his persona is one of festivities. Another aspect of Dionysus is his Orphic version known as “Zagreus”. If you played Hades, you probably have an idea of who he is. He is the son of Hades and Persephone, and is the god of rebirth. The “rebirth” aspect of Zagreus can refer to the amount of times Scott barely escaped death from SEVERAL people.

Anyways, Scott’s Ultimate Persona is Sigyn, the norse goddess of mercy and compassion, and wife of the trickster god Loki. When Loki was caught and punished after he killed Baldr, he was sentenced to be tied under a venomous snake and have it’s venom fall into his eyes, Sigyn shirked his punishment by placing a bowl or basin above him to catch the venom before it falls into his eyes. However, some venom does get in his eyes when Sigyn goes to empty the bowl and Loki’s pained squirming causes earthquakes.

Pearl - “Carmine” - The Moon Arcana - Little Red/Diana

Pearl is a journalist, who often pulls all-nighters and stake-outs to get her scoops. Although chill and laidback during the night, during the day is a ball of feral neuroticism from the lack of sleep. She often finds herself in odd situations to find her scoops, usually seeking out seedy parts or town to report on the criminal activities. This also led her to meet a strange man covered in sunflowers saying she resembles his god in his religion and some oddball bar performer claiming she pushed him out of some godly realm. She is also one of the Pupil’s victims with false memories implanted in her. In this case, she believes Grian is her younger brother. She owns a little dog named “Tilly”.

Her Persona is Little Red, as in Little Red Riding Hood. More specifically, the version she and the huntsman along with her grandmother feed the wolves rocks after the huntsman cuts them out.It then dies either by drowning in a well where the rocks weigh it down or where the weight is just too much for it to handle and it dies. I mainly chose this for the ✨aesthetics✨, with a red cloak and giant terrifying wolf. I suppose it could represent the two sides of Pearl; the chill and laidback Pearl during the night and the feral (albeit kind of sad) and sleep deprived Pearl during the day.

Anyways, her Ultimate Persona is Diana, the Roman goddess of nature, hunters, wildlife, and the moon. She’s often equated with Artemis, but also has an association with Hecate, god of witchcraft due to both of them having crossroads under their dominion. Pearl could theoretically have any of these goddesses, due to their themes aligning with Pearl during Double Life where she goes kind of stir crazy and lonely. Heck, Hecate is even accompanied by a procession of dogs.

Cleo - “Ghoul” - The High Priestess Arcana - Bloody Mary/Durga

A sculptor known for her ornate, detailed, and beautifully haunting sculptures. She was one of the first people that managed to befriend Etho, most likely due to her similarly intimidating aura. She is roommates with Joe Hills, a strange man who often speaks through a puppet on his hand. She had to become more intimidating due to people with less than favourable intentions often flock to prodigy artists. However, if you have her back, she’ll have yours and will always make sure she fulfills a promise or repays a favour.

Her persona in the metaverse is Bloody Mary. She’s most known for her urban legend, where you can summon her via going into a dark room (usually a bathroom) with only a candle and reciting her name three times. Although there are several different origins she may have had, this version is specifically Mary Worth. She was a woman who lived in the woods who was accused of witchcraft. She was burning on the stake when she cursed the village, resulting in the vengeful ghost we know today.

Durga is the Hindu goddess of protection, strength, motherhood, destruction, and wars. She has the ability to unleash divine wrath on those who oppress and is often depicted riding a lion or tiger wielding multiple weapons and fighting demons. Cleo is both someone able to intimidate those into avoiding her and protecting her allies, represented by the combination of the aspects Durga represents. Also the motherhood aspect is calling back to when she was part of the c(l)ockers as the “mom”.

Gem - “Satyr” - The Strength Arcana - Atalanta/Freyja

Gem, although she may not look or act like it, is a former mercenary. She is retired, but not after making herself known through her feats of strength and her near inhuman fighting abilities. As of today however, she spends her days working as a lyricist and LARPing with her friends, as well as regularly bugging Etho. She can crush apples with her bare hands and is both well liked and feared by the rest of the phantom thieves.

Her initial persona is Atalanta, a famed hunter from Greek mythology. She was raised by bears and is the slayer of the Calydoanian Boar after Artemis wasn’t honoured with a sacrifice. She was also possibly a member of the Argonauts, where she fought along side them at the battle of Clolchis. She was a rare example of a female Greek hero in the frat house of the rest of the Greek heroes.

Her Ultimate Persona is Freyja, the Norse god of love, beauty, fertility, war, and gold. She and Odin equally spilt the soldiers who died in war into two halls, one belonging to Freyja. She wears a necklace called “Brísingamen”, obtained through trickery but was broken when she got so wrathful, the hall shook. Thor utilized said necklace to disguise as her to steal back his hammer Mjolnir.

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10piecechickenmcnugget · 8 months ago

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lineup of the main 4 in my empires dungeon meshi au;; more info under the cut (there’s a lot of it. kudos to you if you read all that)

oli: oli is a halfling. his hometown was destroyed in a monster attack after a nearby dungeon collapsed when he was little, however he doesn’t remember this and no one ever told him. he presumes his parents are dead (they are)

he was taken in by a nearby town of primarily tall-men, who were unfamiliar with traditional halfling naming conventions and as such just named him oliver. he doesn’t technically have a last name

he’s been studying bard magic since he was 15. halflings have a lower magic tolerance, so bard magic is the easiest for him to use, although he’s been known to get nosebleeds, headaches, or flat out pass out on occasion. he’s been exploring dungeons for about 6 years

his first death was caused by him getting caught in the crossfire of one of lizzie’s spells.

lizzie: lizzie is a beastkin, and it’s unsure whether she was created artificially or born as such. she was sold around as essentially a circus attraction izutsumi style before escaping when she was very young and finding herself in the same village oli lived in. because of this she was very untrusting and hostile for a while

oli and lizzie were often lumped together as the town oddballs; lizzie did not like oli at first and he still has several scars from her scratching the shit out of him on multiple occasions.

lizzie warmed up to him eventually, and they’ve been best friends for most of their lives. lizzie left the village as soon as she could along with oli so the two of them could pursue magic, as they were both banned from it as teenagers

she quickly discovered ancient magic and took a passion for it instantly, and it’s the main thing she studies. she’s been exploring dungeons with oli for about 6 years

lizzie is surprisingly skilled at staying alive, as she was her party’s only magic user for a long time and they relied on her to revive or heal them (healing magic is not her strong suit)

her first death happened very late into her career when most of her party was wiped out on a lower floor.

joel: joel was born and raised in the town that took in lizzie and oli. he met them both in school and the three of them have been close friends for many years. he moved out with them as soon as they were all old enough because all 3 of them were tired of being banned from pursuing their interests.

joel is not too skilled with magic, preferring combat. he’s spent years and years training and building his skills so that he can protect his party when needed (which is a lot.) he’s the party leader and lizzie and oli trust his skills and judgement.

joel’s first death involved him being drowned by a siren while trying to save oli.

sausage: sausage is an enigma to say the least. no one really knows anything about him or where he came from. oli asked once and received net zero information. everyone assumes he’s a tall-man but it’s uncertain

oli met sausage at a tavern on the island his party moved to in order to explore the dungeon there. they became friends quickly; and lizzie and joel befriended him as well. they invited sausage to join their party once they decided they wanted to go deeper into the dungeon, since he’s skilled in healing magic

sausage seems to get more and more antsy the deeper they go, but they’ve all mutually agreed not to question it

sausage has not died since joining their party, but it’s unknown if he’s died before that.

#mcyt #10pieceart #empires smp #empires s2 #empires dunmeshi au #image id in alt text #theorionsound #theorionsound fanart #oli theorionsound #ldshadowlady #ldshadowlady fanart #lizzie ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans fanart #mythicalsausage #mythicalsausage fanart #feel free to ask me questions i’m sooooooo normal about my own au

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breelandwalker · 8 months ago

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Little Witches

I love it when families come to my market table. Kids ask the most oddball questions and they really get you thinking. And then sometimes they say the most ridiculous shit you've ever heard and you have to clamp down REAL hard on the urge to laugh hysterically.

There was a pair of girls that came by my booth at a recent market who were giving very big Owens Sisters vibes. One was quiet and curious and wanted to examine everything up close. The other was vivacious and giggly and just wanted anything and everything on the table that had to do with LOVE. (Meanwhile, her poor beleaguered mum was hovering in the background like, "Sweetie, you're ten, you don't need a love charm.")

We had quite a fun conversation about magic and how it works and how they can explore the topic together (always directing the Under Adult Supervision glances to the mum, who mouthed "thank you" after a couple of salient points were made).

While her sister was stacking up charms for Luck and Happiness and Wishes, Miss Giggles, who hadn't let go of the Attraction moon jar or the Love bottle charm since arriving, asked how the charms worked with a light in her eyes that I'm sure is going to give her mother grey hairs someday.

"Well," I said, "that depends on what you want them to do. A love charm doesn't have to be for romance. It could be for friendship or family or loving yourself more. And the attraction charm could bring in something you want, but you'd have to be specific about it."

"Oh! I want to attract ALL the things!"

".....A little more specific than that, honey," says Mum.

"I want to attract all the living things! Wait no, just animals. All the animals!"

At that point, I just couldn't resist saying, "You might want to narrow it down a little more than that, dear. 'Cause that's how you get ANTS."

In the end, the sisters went away with some charms for luck and happiness and Mum took my contact information for future questions. ("They have so many. All the time. And I'm new at this too, so I'm running out of answers.") The second they were out of sight and earshot, I pulled my hat down and laughed until I couldn't breathe.

Little witchlings give me life.

#witchblr #witchy things #witch community #life and times of a cottage witch

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thewolffairytaler · 2 months ago

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Little sheep - Oneshot | Thomas Hewitt x Female reader

_____________________________

Summary: She has only worked in the slaughter house for a month at least, barely meeting any of the employees unless absolutely necessary. But when she did go down to check in on the workers, she certainly didn't disappoint the tired employees. She simply aided any of them. Even making one butcher feel at least a little bit relieved to be around a kind soul.

Parts: Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, & eleven.

Thomas Hewitt was an oddball amongst his community, not necessarily because of his height or quiet personality, but because of his face, and also how he tends to carry himself. Thomas can be very scary, especially when he tries to be. That glare of his could make a person instantly regret their word choices.

He stood there in front of his work desk, his back looming over her, half of his face obscured by a leather mask. He has his reasons for being this way. He doesn't talk in view of the fact that his voice would just hurt since the disease had managed to affect his vocal chords too, not just the face. Even if he could speak, he doesn't have much to say. And if he wanted to communicate, it's usually not worth listening to. He's a simple man with simple needs. He just wants to be left alone to do his job in peace. But you... he noticed she wasn't acting like the people of the town, or like anybody he had met so far. She was not like the others who looked at him with fear and disgust. There's something in her eyes, a spark of curiosity that Thomas hasn't seen in a long time, or at all in general. It's almost... intriguing.

"Hmmph." He let out a deep grunt to clear his throat, trying to push away the unfamiliar feelings rising inside him. He wasn't here to make friends or have deep conversations. He was here to work, and that's all there is to it. He began to chop the pig meat once again in a more frustrated way, not quite understanding why she was acting so differently around him so far. The choppings were practically echoing through the empty halls of the butcherhouse. But as he was working, he can't help but glance back at her secretly through the dirty glass windows one more time, wondering what it would be like to have someone see past the monster everyone thinks he was.

She hadn't tried to say anything mean to him. She was just passing by to check every employees work status. If anybody was slacking off or did something incorrectly. She wasn't an inspector, but a mere secretary for the boss. Mostly handling the paperwork and other things that Thomas's boss could care less about performing on.

"Don't mind me Hewitt, I'm just walking by, it's sixteen minutes left until the day ends by the way. Don't strain your hands to much by then."

Thomas paused mid-chop, her words catching him off guard. He turned back around slowly, the mask rustling with the movement. He dosen’t convey anything at first, just stare at her with his piercing gaze, trying to figure out her intentions. She wasn't like the townsfolk, that much is clear. Most people would've scurried away by now, intimidated by his presence. But she doesn't stand her ground either, her voice was steady and calm. Thomas can see the sincerity in her eyes, the lack of malice or judgement. Just a simple statement, a reminder of the time. It's...refreshing.

He did a curt nod, a small gesture of acknowledgement. He dosen’t say thank you, because he dosen’t think he'd ever said those words to a non-family member before. But he appreciates the information nonetheless. Thomas turned back around and continued working, his mind churning with thoughts he'd never had before. Thinking that she was so kind, (Y/n). So kind and understanding for him. And he thinks... he thinks he likes that. He dosen’t feel paranoid over it, she dosen’t make him second guess her intentions.

She simply left him after that, walking to the other stations as she checked on the other male employees. Having this space being dominated by male employees could be annoying at times, especially when these men tend to cat call her every once in a while. While the boss doesn't ever let her forget her gender, and also sometimes look at her in a certain way.

From the corner of Thomas's eye, he watched her walk away, her figure disappearing from his sight as quickly as a serene sheep. He stood there for a moment, lost in thought. Her presence has left him feeling... unsettled. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there's something about her that draws him in, makes him want to know more. Thomas shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He doesn't have time for this. He has a job to do, and he can't afford to let his mind wander like this. He turns back to his work, his hands moving with practised ease as he continues on his tasks. But even as he works, Thomas can't shake the feeling that something has changed. That she has changed something inside him, even if only slightly. He doesn't know what it is or where it will lead, but he knows one thing for sure - he will be seeing you again, little sheep. And he couldn't wait.

Author's note: I wanted to write a oneshot about Thomas for a really long time now, but I wasn't sure what to write that hadn't already been done before. So I decided to write something simple, yet had the potential to have future parts if well received.

#slashers fanfiction #the texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre beginning #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt #leatherface #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #Thomas hewitt x Female reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n

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ventique18 · 2 years ago

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You know 🐉 is an odd person, but one night when your daily evening stroll comes to an end, he presents you with a stone. A piece of rock. Now you would've been confused at this unexpected gift, but you are honestly so impressed by how round and shiny and absolutely perfect this piece of pebble is.

You accept it excitedly and he looks at you with relief, happiness, and unrestrained admiration. It strikes you as a bit odd, but you don't think much of it.

You don't know that accepting a dragon's favorite rock is agreeing to wed him. He doesn't know that humans don't ask for marriage like that.

So when you confess to him one day that you love him and that you want to spend your life with him, he looks at you not with elation or awkwardness or anything that would give away his answer, but with genuine confusion.

"I am glad to hear such direct words from your mouth, and I feel the exact same way. Though I am somewhat puzzled at this sudden renewal of vows, even when we are yet to actually marry," he says, and his eyes widen at a realization, "Or could it be... That you are impatient and wish to marry at once? Grandmother has suggested that we hold it in the coming spring, though if you prefer a snowy wedding..."

"Renewal..? Marry? The coming spring?!"

Malleus Draconia has already informed his dearest grandmother of your acceptance to his marriage offer, and she already has detailed plan proposals on your nuptial, destinations for your honeymoon, a whole book of beautiful names for your future children, and has apparently prepared you and your spouse-to-be's joint room, office, and baby nursery.

That day, you are reminded of just how unique and excitable dragons are in general, and not just this oddball of a man who started all these by proposing to you with a pebble, of all things.

But ah well, it's why you fell for him anyway.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #ventique rambles

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writingrock · 4 months ago

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the tale of two lovers [3]

pairing: barbarian! katsuki bakugou x reader (female) summary: a bard approaches a lone barbarian in search for a story to tell. Who could have known that the barbarian end up being such a romantic tale.

notes: fantasy au, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, bakusquad, barbarian bakugou, mentions of potential drowning, violence, religion

word count: 8k

part list

part one: chapter list

a/n: if you haven't read the earlier parts, I do suggest doing that before reading this <3 enjoy yall

There were a couple of things Bakugou noticed about you. It was natural that he was slightly curious about the latest addition to the party. After all, he needed to judge you. If you’d be a threat to them, whether you were loyal, or if you’d bolt if the second things got too rough. Being suspicious of people was second nature to him— he didn’t know anything about you, and you weren’t exactly an open book either. His priority was the safety of his party and to get into Niniel’s Veil.

The first thing he noticed was your habit of meditating both in the mornings and at night. Initially, he assumed you were just dozing off. But it didn’t take long for him to realise there was something more to it. He could hear you murmuring softly, your words incoherent to him, spoken in a language that seemed ancient, foreign— something he couldn’t place. And each time you meditated, there was a faint but undeniable arcane aura that surrounded you, subtle yet potent.

Bakugou wasn’t clueless; he knew you were proficient in magic. But he never asked about it. He didn’t see the point in prying, especially when you didn’t seem eager to offer up any information. Magic users were tricky— he had dealt with enough of them to know that much. But there was something about your rituals, the quiet way you went about them, that bothered him. It was like you were tapping into something he couldn’t fully understand, and it made him uneasy. Not that he’d ever admit that, of course.

What really got under his skin was how you’d react if he ever brought it up. The one time he made a snide comment about your ‘napping’ habits, you broke from your trance with an annoyed glare, stood up without a word, and climbed a nearby tree to continue your meditation out of his sight. It was as if you were saying, ‘Fine, if you’re going to be a pain, I’ll take my peace somewhere else.’

“Like damn,” he thought, watching you settle onto a branch with all the grace of someone who’d done it a thousand times. “Was that really necessary?” It was annoying, sure, but also oddly impressive. He never commented on it again because he found your response irritatingly effective. You’d figured out how to get him to back off without saying a word, and that irked him more than he liked.

Over time, he couldn’t help but notice the little patterns in your behaviour. Sometimes, you’d climb up a tree like before, finding solace among the branches where no one could reach you. Other times, you’d wander a bit farther from the group, putting some distance between yourself and the rest of them. Each time, you’d sink into that meditative state, your face softening, your body relaxing in a way he’d never seen during the day. It was like you needed to be alone.

Bakugou found it all... perplexing. He wasn’t used to people who needed that kind of quiet, that kind of introspection. His own method of dealing with stress was to confront it head-on, to fight through it with sheer force of will. Watching you, though, he began to see the value in your approach, even if he didn’t fully get it. There was a strength in it, a different kind of power that came from within. He respected that, in his own grudging way.

But it also made you more of a mystery to him. You weren’t like anyone he’d met before. You had layers he couldn’t quite peel back, and that made him wary. He wasn’t sure if you were hiding something dangerous or if you were just another oddball with a strange way of coping. Either way, he wasn’t about to let his guard down around you. Not yet.

So he kept an eye on you, even if it was from the corner of his vision. He wasn’t sure if you’d prove to be an ally or a liability, but until he figured you out, he wasn’t going to stop watching. And in the back of his mind, he wondered if you were doing the same with him.

Being around your new companions, you silently took note of their habits. Mina had a rather cute tendency to hum softly under her breath whenever she was deep in thought. Her fingers idly twirling a strand of her pink hair as she mapped out plans in her head. Sero, on the other hand, had a habit of fidgeting with his gear, his hands constantly adjusting straps or checking supplies, so that he was always ready for whatever might come next. Kirishima’s habit was more physical. Every morning, without fail, he would stretch and flex his muscles to get himself pumped up for the day ahead. As for Denki, he had a peculiar quirk of sketching in the dirt with a stick, creating little patterns or symbols whenever the group took a break, his mind always seemingly wandering off to daydream.

But it was Bakugou’s habits that truly surprised you. For someone with such a rough and tough exterior, he took care of his belongings with meticulous precision. Every night, after the group had settled down, you watched as he sharpened his weapons, his movements capable and methodical, ensuring that every blade was honed to perfection. Once his weapons were tended to, he would take his time cleaning his jewellery. The strings of painted animal and monster bones, the medals of victory he wore with pride. Each piece was handled with care, as if they were not just trophies but sacred tokens of his past triumphs.

You also found out that Bakugou was highly protective of his belongings rather quickly. One day, as you were tidying up around the camp, you noticed his weapons leaning haphazardly against a tree. You figured you could adjust them to a more stable position. Just to help out. Without much thought, you reached out to adjust them, but before you could even touch them, Bakugou's voice cut through the air with a sharp bark.

"Don’t touch those!” he snapped, swatting your hands away with an irritated swipe. His eyes flashed with fierceness. He grumbled under his breath as he adjusted the weapons himself, glaring at you as you walked off. You weren’t hurt by his reaction, having grown accustomed to his attitude.

Instead, you simply noted the intensity of his protectiveness over his gear. It was clear that, for Bakugou, these items were more than mere equipment; they were personal, significant, and perhaps even symbolic. This glimpse into his character added another layer to the complex puzzle that was Bakugou, and you made a mental note of it, recognizing that his brashness was underpinned by a deep-seated sense of value and pride in his possessions.

It was an unexpected contrast, the ferocity of his nature tempered by the careful attention he paid to his gear. It hinted at a deeper layer beneath his gruff exterior, one that valued discipline and respect for the tools of his trade. It made you wonder just how much of Bakugou’s persona was an act, a hardened shell to protect something more vulnerable underneath.

Amongst most of your habits, Bakugou noticed that you often talked to yourself softly. It wasn’t the kind of muttering that came with frustration or concentration; it was almost like you were having a conversation with someone only you could see. And sometimes, without warning, you would snap into a faraway look, as if something serious had pulled your attention away from the present moment. He couldn’t understand it. The number of times you mumbled to yourself was unnerving, and the random instances when you suddenly zoned out? Those annoyed him to no end.

With his growing awareness of your habits, you also noticed something about Bakugou. He absolutely hated it when people broke eye contact with him. It wasn’t just a pet peeve; it seemed to ignite something deeper, a need for control or maybe just a demand for respect. The only reason you both came to know these things was because of one situation.

The two of you were locked in a heated debate over which route to take. You stood in front of him, your map unfolded between you, maintaining firm eye contact as you laid out your reasoning. But as Bakugou argued his point, something in the woods caught your attention. Your gaze drifted, your words trailing off as you stared off into the distance, that faraway look clouding your eyes.

Bakugou’s irritation flared instantly. Did you have any manners? His rough fingers caught your chin, gripping it firmly as he yanked your head back to face him, pulling your attention away from whatever had stolen it.

“Oi,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m talking to you. The hell are you staring at?”

You blinked, your focus snapping back to him, the intensity in his eyes almost startling. “Something’s out there,” you replied quietly, though there was an edge to your voice. You tried to pull away, but his grip didn’t ease.

Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “I don’t care what’s out there. We’re in the middle of something right now. Focus.”

You glared back at him, annoyance bubbling up inside you. “I am focused. But there’s something moving in the woods, Bakugou. You can’t just ignore that.”

His jaw clenched, but after a moment, he released your chin, eyes narrowing as he glanced toward the treeline. “Fine. We’ll check it out. But next time, don’t just zone out like that. We’re a team, and you need to stay present.”

You rubbed your chin where his fingers had pressed, the skin still tingling. “Yeah, well, maybe you should try trusting your team more. I’m not here to be your distraction.”

Bakugou huffed, a mix of frustration and reluctant agreement in his expression. “Then don’t act like one. Let’s go see what’s out there before I lose my patience.”

The two of you moved toward the woods, the tension between you still simmering, but now tempered by the mutual understanding that, like it or not, you had to work together.

Work together, the two of you did. When things got serious, you both clicked instantly. It wasn’t a conscious decision but one born out of necessity in the heat of battle, where there was no room for ego or stubbornness. Up until that moment, every interaction had been a struggle for dominance— a relentless push and pull of wills that seemed irreconcilable. But in the chaos of the fight, instincts took over. Without a word, you found yourselves falling into a rhythm, one that neither of you had ever imagined possible. It was seamless, almost natural, as if the tension between you had melted away in the face of a common enemy.

It was a moment when survival demanded more than just brute strength or smart thinking— it required both, in perfect tandem. There was no time for bickering. It pushed for the two of you to act in sync.

The river was deceptively calm as the group approached it, its wide expanse shimmering under the midday sun. The air was warm, with only the faintest breeze rustling the leaves along the banks. The steady flow of water offered a soothing sound, a brief respite that almost made you forget the dangers lurking in the wild. Almost.

As the group began to wade through the river, the water quickly rose to waist height, chilling their legs and slowing their progress. The river’s surface shimmered deceptively in the sunlight, a picture of calm that masked the dangers below. The current, though steady, wasn’t particularly strong, and the crossing initially seemed straightforward. The group moved cautiously, each step carefully placed as they navigated the slippery rocks beneath their feet. Conversation was hushed, focused on the task at hand. The occasional sound of splashing water was the only break in the quiet.

But just as a sense of security began to settle over them, the calm was shattered by a sudden, blood-curdling scream. Sero, who had been a few steps ahead, suddenly vanished beneath the surface, yanked down by something unseen.

It echoed across the water, freezing everyone in their tracks. The sound was raw, filled with terror, and it sent a jolt of adrenaline through the group. Heads whipped around, searching for Sero, but the river’s surface remained deceptively placid. The moment stretched, tension hanging thick in the air, as the group realised they weren’t alone in the water. Panic rippled through the group, everyone instinctively scrambling to retreat.

“Get back to the shore!” you shouted, your eyes scanning the water for any sign of Sero. Bubbles surfaced where he’d been pulled under, followed by an unsettling silence.

Bakugou, always quick to react, was already moving forward, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. “There’s something in the water,” he growled, his voice laced with frustration and urgency.

Before you could respond, Kirishima was pulled under too, his cry swallowed by the river as it dragged him beneath the surface. Your heart pounded in your chest as you desperately tried to think of a way to save them. In mere seconds, the river was turning into a death trap. You needed to act urgently.

Your eyes darted frantically across the river’s surface, searching for something— anything— that could give your group an edge. The situation was spiralling out of control, with unseen creatures lurking beneath the water, ready to drag more of your companions into the depths. Panic threatened to take hold, but you forced it down, focusing on the task at hand. There had to be a way to turn this around.

And then you saw it: a cluster of boulders upstream, half-submerged but sturdy. The current swirled around them, and an idea began to form in your mind. If those rocks could be dislodged, they might create a temporary dam, diverting the flow of water and lowering the river’s level just enough to expose whatever was lurking beneath the surface. It was a gamble, but it was the only chance you had to even the odds.

You turned to Bakugou. He was technically the only one strong enough to pull it off— the only one who could move those boulders with the sheer force needed to make your plan work. He was already on edge, his eyes scanning for threats. You didn’t have time to debate or convince him. The plan was risky, but if anyone could do it, it was him.

“Bakugou!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos. Your mind raced, piecing together the strategy as you spoke. “Upstream! There’s a cluster of boulders. If we can dislodge them, we can block off part of the river and lower the water level. It’ll expose whatever’s down there!”

There was a split second where you weren’t sure if he’d go along with it. But then, without a word, Bakugou pivoted, his decision made in an instant. He charged toward the boulders you’d pointed out, his movements decisive and powerful. Exactly what the situation called for. You watched him go, feeling a surge of relief that he didn’t fight you on this and carried the plan out so quickly.

You could feel the tension in the air. The plan was in motion, and now all you could do was trust that Bakugou would pull through. If he could dislodge the boulders, you’d have a fighting chance.

As Bakugou reached the cluster of rocks, you braced yourself, knowing that the next few moments would determine whether your plan would succeed or whether you’d all be dragged into the river’s depths.

Bakugou reached the boulders, his muscles tensing as he shoved against the largest one. The ground trembled under the force of his strength, the boulder grinding against the others with a deafening noise before it finally gave way. The river’s flow was immediately disrupted, the water beginning to recede as it was diverted around the newly formed barrier.

The water level dropped rapidly as Bakugou’s boulders began to stem the flow, revealing the creatures lurking beneath the surface. The riverbed emerged in patches, exposing the slick, dark forms of the attackers. Eel hounds. Their sleek, sinuous bodies thrashed violently in the shallows, their long, muscular tails whipping up sprays of water as they desperately tried to retreat to deeper, safer waters. The eel hounds were a vicious breed, with sharp teeth and a predatory instinct that made them lethal in the water. But now, out of their element and half-exposed, they were vulnerable.

You weren’t about to let them get away. Heart pounding, you reached behind you and grabbed your spear, the familiar weight of it grounding you in the midst of the chaos. The creatures were momentarily disoriented, their gaping maws snapping at the air as they tried to slither back into the water. This was the opportunity you needed, a brief window to strike before they could regroup.

“Now!” Bakugou’s voice rang out, cutting through the din of thrashing water and hissing creatures. His command was sharp, authoritative, and it spurred the others into action. “Attack them while they’re exposed!”

As his words echoed across the river, you took aim at the nearest eel hound, its slick body coiled defensively as it tried to slink away. You didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, you hurled your spear, the weapon cutting through the air with a deadly accuracy. It found its mark, piercing the eel hound’s exposed side with a sickening crunch. The creature let out a high-pitched screech, its body convulsing as it writhed in pain.

Sero, who had managed to resurface, joined the fight, hurling whatever they could find at the writhing creatures. Kirishima, now back on his feet, drove his weapon through the nearest eel, its body twitching violently before going still. While the others fought, Bakugou continued to reinforce the dam, dislodging more boulders to block off any remaining escape routes for the creatures. Every movement calculated to ensure the barrier held.

After what felt like an eternity, the last of the creatures were driven away and defeated. The tension eased, and the river grew calm once more.

Bakugou wiped sweat from his brow, his breathing heavy from the exertion. He turned to you, his expression unreadable for a moment before a hint of grudging respect crossed his features. “Your plan worked,” he admitted, his voice gruff but clear. “Guess you’re not completely useless.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth, though your heart was still pounding from the adrenaline. “Did it hurt to admit that?” you quipped, the tension between you easing just slightly.

Bakugou snorted, but there was no real venom in his tone this time. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m just surprised you swallowed your pride and actually listened to me,” you fired back, your tone sharp but laced with a hint of teasing.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, his expression twisting into an annoyed scowl, though it lacked its usual bite. “Don’t get used to it. I was just doing what needed to be done.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, clearly unconvinced. “Whatever helps you justify it, big guy. But let’s be real— you took my advice because, deep down, you know I’m right more often than you care to admit.”

“You’re really asking for it today aren’t you.”

The group began to regroup, shaken but alive, thanks to your combined efforts. As you all continued your journey, the memory of the river crossing lingered in your mind. It was one of the few times you’d truly worked together, a moment of unspoken truce in the midst of battle. It was a small crack in the wall of animosity between you and Bakugou. One that neither of you were eager to admit, but one that might just grow wider as the journey continued. Whether you liked it or not, you were slowly learning to rely on each other.

After the river incident, the group continued their trek, the adrenaline from the battle still thrumming in their veins. The path ahead was uneven and rocky, but they pressed on, driven by the need to put some distance between themselves and the dangerous waters. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows over the landscape, and it wasn’t long before they decided to set up camp for the night.

As the others busied themselves with the usual tasks— setting up the bedrolls, gathering firewood, and securing the perimeter— you turned your attention to the wounded. Sero and Kirishima bore the marks of the recent skirmish, their bodies bruised and battered from their close encounter with the eel hounds. The injuries weren’t life-threatening, but they needed attention. You knelt beside them, the warmth of the campfire casting a gentle glow over the scene, and began to work.

With a quiet incantation, you summoned a soft, ethereal light to your hands, the energy of your healing spell crackling faintly in the air. As you passed your hands over Sero’s injuries, the bruises began to fade, and his breathing grew steadier. The tension in his shoulders eased as the pain subsided, replaced by the soothing warmth of the healing magic. Kirishima, who had taken a harder hit, winced as you started on him, but his expression soon softened as the healing energy mended his wounds.

Bakugou, who had been sharpening his blade nearby, noticed your actions. He watched in silence for a moment, his crimson eyes narrowing in thought as he took in the ease with which you wielded the arcane. It wasn’t just the spells themselves, but the fluidity and confidence in your movements that caught his attention. You clearly knew what you were doing.

After a while, he sheathed his blade and walked over, his heavy footsteps crunching on the dry earth. “You’re pretty good at that,” he remarked, his voice lacking the usual edge. He nodded towards Sero and Kirishima. “Healing spells and all that. Didn’t know you had that in your arsenal.”

You glanced up at him, noting the curiosity in his tone. “Yeah, well,” you said, finishing up with Kirishima and standing up, brushing the dirt from your knees, “I’m well-versed in the arcane. Healing spells are just a part of it.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, his eyes widened ever so slightly. “Just a part, huh? What else can you do?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “More than you might think. I’ve learned quite a few spells over the years— defensive, offensive, and everything in between. Comes in handy, especially out here.”

Bakugou nodded, the faintest hint of respect flickering in his gaze. “Good. We’ll need that kind of skill if we’re gonna make it through this.” His tone was serious, but there was an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of you— an understanding that your abilities were valuable, not just to the group, but to each other.

“Yeah,” you agreed, meeting his gaze. “We will.”

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the campfire casting flickering shadows on your face. A part of you wanted to be the bigger person, to extend the olive branch. The truth was, you and Bakugou needed to find a way to cooperate—or at the very least, tolerate each other. It was a reality you couldn’t ignore.

The conversation had surprisingly remained civil and pleasant, a rarity in your interactions with him. As you considered the potential for a more amicable relationship, a thought crossed your mind. You had the opportunity to bridge the gap between you two, to turn this unexpected moment into something more productive. You decided— fuck it. Why not try?

“Hey,” you began, your voice a little softer than usual. “How about I teach you some easy spells? Nothing too fancy— just some minor ones that could come in handy,” you added quickly. “They’re not difficult, and they might come in handy. You never know when a little magic could tip the scales.”

Bakugou’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, a mixture of surprise and suspicion crossing his face. He seemed to weigh your offer for a moment, his expression unreadable. For a second, you thought he might outright reject the idea— Bakugou wasn’t exactly known for relying on anything other than his own strength.

Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually scowling face. “You want to teach me magic?” he asked, his tone a mix of hesitation and curiosity.

“Yeah, why not?” you replied with a shrug. “It might help us out on our journey. And besides, it’s not like I’m offering you a bunch of complex incantations. Just some basic stuff— like how to create light or minor defensive wards.”

With a slight tilt of his head and a grunt, he replied, “Hmph. Maybe. I’m not into all that magic shit, but if it’s useful… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to know a few tricks.” His tone was begrudging, but there was an acceptance in his words. An acknowledgment that maybe your offer wasn’t entirely useless.

You nodded, a small, relieved smile pulling at your lips. “We can start after supper if you’re up for it.”

“Fine,” he said, the word clipped but it soumded softer. “But you better teach me something useful.”

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. The tension between you easing just a bit. “You’ll see how useful minor spells can be, Bakugou.”

The group watched in shock as you and Bakugou, who had been locked in a perpetual state of antagonism, shared a surprisingly civil conversation. The scene unfolding by the campfire was so out of character for both of you that it drew a mix of astonished glances and hushed murmurs from the others.

Mina and Denki were busy preparing dinner, their movements steady as they chopped vegetables and stirred pots over the fire. Mina’s eyes darted between you and Bakugou, her usually lively expression tinged with incredulity. She nudged Denki, who was equally transfixed by the unfolding scene. Both of them had grown accustomed to the daily bickering between you and Bakugou, and seeing you two actually conversing in a calm, even somewhat friendly manner, was a stark contrast to the norm.

Sero and Kirishima remained by your side, their attention shifting between the conversation and the healing you had just finished. Sero’s expression was one of mild surprise, while Kirishima’s eyes were wide with curiosity. Having witnessed the aftermath of the river skirmish, they were no less surprised by the sight of you and Bakugou actually getting along. The contrast between Bakugou’s usual brashness and your typically reserved demeanour was striking, and the shift was nothing short of remarkable.

As you and Bakugou continued your discussion, the air around the campfire seemed to change. The usual tension that hung between you had dissipated, replaced by a strange, tentative connection. Bakugou’s initial scepticism had given way to genuine interest, and your willingness to extend an olive branch had set a new tone.

Mina leaned over to Denki, her voice a soft whisper. “Is this real? Are they actually getting along?”

Denki, who was stirring the stew with a wooden spoon, nodded slowly. “I think so. It’s kind of weird seeing them like this.”

Sero, catching the tail end of your exchange with Bakugou, chuckled softly. “Well, it’s about time. Maybe this is what we needed to finally get some peace around here.”

Kirishima, still by your side, gave a supportive pat on your shoulder. “Nice work, by the way. You’ve done a great job with the healing.”

As the conversation between you and Bakugou wound down, Bakugou gave a begrudging nod, his demeanour slightly softened. “Alright, alright. I guess I can learn a few spells from you. But don’t think this means we’re all buddy-buddy now.”

You smiled, not taking offence. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Bakugou.”

As the group settled around the fire for dinner, the mood was lighter, with more relaxed chatter and occasional laughter. The unexpected truce between you and Bakugou had brought a new, unexpected dynamic to the camp. The evening carried a sense of cautious optimism, hinting that despite the rough start, there was potential for growth and understanding.

As the evening wore on and the campfire’s once vibrant glow softened to a gentle warmth, you and Bakugou sought refuge in a quieter corner of the campsite. The area was a welcome retreat from the lively chatter and clatter of the main camp, offering a peaceful contrast.

The air was cool and crisp, carrying the fresh scent of pine and the subtle fragrance of damp earth. The faint rustle of leaves in the soft breeze created a soothing backdrop, blending harmoniously with the occasional distant call of a night bird. Above, the night sky was a canvas of deep indigo, studded with countless stars that shimmered like tiny gems scattered across the vast expanse.

The embers of the campfire, now little more than glowing coals, cast a soft, flickering light that painted gentle shadows on the surrounding trees. The quiet of the area was punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the dying fire, adding a sense of tranquillity to the scene.

In this secluded spot, the gentle murmur of the river became a calming, rhythmic sound that complemented the serenity of the night. The ground beneath was soft with a layer of pine needles, providing a comfortable place for you and Bakugou to sit and focus on the task at hand. The natural surroundings, undisturbed and serene, offered a perfect backdrop for this rare moment between you and Bakugou.

Bakugou stood a few paces away, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His usual scowl had softened into a focused expression, though the intensity in his eyes remained. He watched you, his stance slightly rigid as if ready to spring into action at any moment.

You settled onto the soft ground, the pine needles cushioning your position. You patted the spot beside you, gesturing for Bakugou to join you. His eyes flickered between your inviting gesture and the space he was about to occupy. With a resigned huff, he unfolded his arms and walked over. His movements were deliberate, almost reluctant, as he lowered himself onto the ground beside you.

As he sat down, his posture remained slightly stiff, and his gaze was fixed ahead, not quite meeting yours. The edges of his mouth were set in a neutral line, betraying his reluctance to fully relax. Despite the calm surroundings, there was a subtle tension in his shoulders, a physical manifestation of his inner conflict.

“Alright, Bakugou,” you said, your voice steady as you extended your hand towards him. The command in your tone made him lift his gaze to meet yours. “This is a basic light spell. It’s handy for when you need some illumination. Watch closely.”

He watched intently as you began to demonstrate a simple spell to create a small, glowing orb of light. You chanted a soft incantation, and a small, radiant orb of light materialised above your palm, casting a warm glow that illuminated your face and the surrounding area. The orb hovered effortlessly, its light gentle yet clear.

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, his typical mistrust giving way to intense curiosity. “So, just like that, huh? Doesn’t look too complicated.”

“It’s not,” you replied, nodding in agreement. “The key is focus and intent. You need to visualise the light you want to create and then channel your energy into making it happen.” You handed him a small, enchanted crystal, its surface faintly glowing with a soft, internal light. This crystal should help him concentrate on divination.

Bakugou took it with a firm, determined grip, his fingers curling around the crystal as if it held the answers to a long-standing puzzle. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady despite the slight edge of uncertainty. “Let’s see if I can manage this.”

With a nod of encouragement, you watched as Bakugou closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration. His hands moved slowly as he attempted to replicate the spell. For a moment, nothing happened, and he grunted in frustration. “Damn it. This isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“Just give it a moment,” you said, trying to keep the tone encouraging. “It takes some practice. Visualise the light, think about it forming in your hand.”

You watch as he focused on the crystal, his usual bravado was momentarily replaced by a concentrated, almost vulnerable expression. The intensity in his gaze was a mix of determination and curiosity, reflecting his genuine interest in mastering the spell.

He focused on the crystal, his usual bravado slipping away to reveal a determined vulnerability. His expression was intense, a mix of focus and the desire to master this new challenge. Gritting his teeth, Bakugou pushed past his initial struggles. Slowly, a faint, flickering glow appeared, stuttering to life above his palm. It steadied, growing brighter as he concentrated harder. The orb of light finally stabilised, hovering with a soft, steady glow. Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly in surprise and satisfaction. For a moment, the rough edges of his demeanour softened, a genuine curiosity and concentration in his gaze.

“There, you got it!” you exclaimed, a smile spreading across your face as you watched the small, glowing orb of light that had formed above Bakugou’s hand. The light was steady and bright, casting a warm glow that illuminated the surrounding area.

He observed the light, a rare flicker of satisfaction crossing his features. He held his hand steady, allowing the light to hover above it. The contrast between his usual scowl and this moment of success was striking. Bakugou’s gaze remained fixed on the glowing orb, his usual hardness softened by a touch of wonder. He seemed momentarily lost in the achievement, the light reflecting in his eyes.

“See?” you continued, your tone encouraging. “It’s all about focus and intention. You visualised the light, and then you channelled your energy into creating it. Simple as that.”

From a distance, the rest of the group watched with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Mina leaned against a nearby tree, whispering to Denki, who was peeking through the branches. “This is actually kind of amazing. I never thought I’d see Bakugou learning something.”

Denki grinned, his eyes wide with interest. “Yeah, and he’s actually doing pretty well! Look at that orb!”

Sero, sitting with Kirishima by the fire, nudged his companion and nodded toward the two of you. “It’s good to see them getting along for once. Maybe this will make things smoother for the rest of the journey.”

Kirishima chuckled, his voice low. “Yeah, it’s like watching a small miracle happen. I think this is a step in the right direction.”

It was a small step, but it was a step nonetheless. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of finding common ground. And as you guided him through the basics, you couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope that, despite the rough start, cooperation might be within reach.

You gave Bakugou an approving nod, your smile warm and genuine. “With a bit more practice, you’ll get the hang of it.”

Bakugou, still holding the glowing orb, glanced at you with a gruff but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks. Not bad for a first try, right?”

“Definitely,” you replied, your smile widening as you acknowledged his progress. “You’ve picked it up faster than most people. Keep it up, and you might surprise yourself.”

Bakugou let out a gruff grunt, but there was a faint glimmer of appreciation in his eyes, a subtle shift from his usual manner. “Yeah, yeah. Not bad for a beginner’s trick. What’s next?”

He shifted his weight slightly, clearly eager to continue and test his newfound skills further. The orb of light remained steady above his palm, casting a warm glow that seemed to reflect his burgeoning interest in mastering the art.

As you continued to guide him through the basics, a small sense of amity began to build. You taught him some defensive spells as well as some blessings. The rough edges of your interactions were starting to smooth out, and the possibility of finding common ground seemed a little more tangible. The night air felt a bit warmer, and the flickering light of Bakugou’s newly learned spell seemed to symbolise a new beginning in your journey together.

“I am not teaching you fireball,” you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“Why not?” Bakugou asked, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. There was undeniable mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Because I know damn well the first one you’d throw would be at me,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, it’s a good thing I already know how to cast it,” he shot back, his voice dripping with smugness. Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face for just a moment.

“You’re fucking with me,” you snapped, disbelief lacing your words—only to fall silent when he casually raised his hand, a swirling ball of fire igniting in his palm. The flames danced, reflecting in his eyes as his smirk grew.

“Believe what you want,” Bakugou said, his tone dangerously playful as the fire crackled softly between his fingers. “But if you’re gonna keep running your mouth, I might just give you a demonstration.”

You glared at him, refusing to let him see how much the sudden display rattled you. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He leaned in slightly, the fireball still flickering in his hand. “Try me. I’ve been dying for an excuse.”

“So you do know some magic,” you sneered, eyes fixed on the flickering fireball in his hand.

“Just the fun stuff— fire and explosions, really only because dragonborns have a natural affinity for it.” Bakugou replied with a cocky grin, letting the flames dance between his fingers. “But hey, your lessons weren’t completely useless. You taught me the boring defence shit.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you tried to hide the bubbling mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “Figures you’d only bother with the destructive spells. Typical.”

Bakugou extinguished the fireball with a snap of his fingers, the heat vanishing as quickly as it had flared to life.

“Destruction gets the job done,” he said, leaning in just a little, his tone teasing yet sharp. “But maybe you could teach me more spells that don’t involve blowing shit up. Or are you scared I’ll be better at it than you?”

You scoffed, refusing to back down. A part of you rather surprised he's indirectly asking for more lessons. “Please. You might have the firepower, but magic’s more than just brute force, you know. It takes skill, control—things you’re seriously lacking.”

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with that familiar defiant spark. “Then show me. I’m all ears.” The challenge was clear, hanging in the air between you, a dare and a promise wrapped into one.

You met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “Alright, tough guy. But don’t cry to me when you can’t keep up.”

Bakugou’s smirk widened. You can only see reckless confidence in that toothy grin. “I never back down from a challenge. Especially not from you.”

With time, the group edged closer to Niniel’s Veil, the ominous forest looming ever nearer. As you studied your map, you noticed a town nearby, tucked away just off the path. A quick glance at the group’s dwindling supplies confirmed what you already suspected. It would be wise to make a stop before venturing into the perilous forest. You knew the group had to be fully prepared for whatever awaited them.

Gathering everyone together, you broached the idea of stopping by the town to replenish your supplies. The suggestion was met with easy agreement— no one could argue with the logic of arriving at Niniel’s Veil as well-prepared as possible. So, with the decision made, the group adjusted their course and made their way toward the town, the weight of the upcoming challenges hanging in the air like a storm cloud on the horizon.

Niniel's Veil was close now, close enough that the journey was starting to weigh on everyone's minds. After all, the Veil was known for its treacherous terrain and unpredictable dangers, and none of you were keen on venturing in underprepared.

The town was a modest one, nestled in the heart of the forest, its cobblestone streets lined with wooden buildings that leaned slightly with age. The air carried the scents of fresh bread, herbs, and the earthy musk of the nearby woods. As your group entered, the usual hustle and bustle of townsfolk going about their day surrounded you: vendors hawking their wares, children chasing each other in the streets, and the occasional clatter of a blacksmith at work.

You wandered into a small general store together, the bell above the door tinkling as you entered. The store was filled with the scent of dried herbs and aged wood, shelves stocked with everything from preserved foodstuffs to adventuring gear. The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with kind eyes, greeted you with a nod before returning to her task of sorting through a pile of parchment.

As the others began to peruse the shelves, you felt a tug at your attention— something calling you elsewhere. You hesitated for a moment. Now? You contemplate the choice for a moment. Then decided to follow the instinct that had served you so well in the past.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you said to the group. “There’s something I need to do.”

Bakugou shot you a sharp glance, but you were already heading out the door before he could say anything. The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind you, leaving the rest of the group inside.

Kirishima watched you go, then turned to Bakugou, who was already narrowing his eyes at the door. “Relax, man. We’re in a town, not the middle of the woods. She’s not gonna ditch us.”

Bakugou huffed, his expression stubborn. “Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna follow. Don’t trust her yet.”

Mina rolled her eyes as she rummaged through a basket of dried fruits. “Bakugou, cool it. Not everyone’s out to get us. Besides, she’s been pulling her weight this whole time.”

But Bakugou was already moving toward the door, his resolve firm. “You do what you want. I’m not taking chances.” He slipped out of the store, the bell’s jingle the only indication that he had even left.

Outside, you made your way through the town with a sense of purpose, the familiarity of the streets guiding your steps. It had been years since you last visited this place, but it hadn’t changed much. At least, not the parts that mattered. You knew exactly where you were headed.

The temple of Bes was tucked away on a quiet street, away from the main thoroughfare. It wasn’t a grand structure, like the temples dedicated to more prominent deities, but it had a certain charm in its simplicity. The building was small, its wooden exterior weathered but well-maintained, and the front door stood open, inviting those in need of guidance or luck.

Inside, the air was cool and filled with the faint scent of incense. The walls were adorned with simple tapestries depicting various aspects of Bes’ domain—scenes of fortune, protection, and blessings bestowed upon those in need. At the far end of the temple stood the statue of Bes, the figure to whom you had come to pay your respects.

The statue was carved from dark stone, standing about four feet tall. Bes was depicted in his natural form, a powerful figure with a stocky, muscular build and bowlegs that gave him a sturdy, grounded appearance. His face, though undeniably ugly, bore a kind of fierce protection. The sort of visage that could scare away evil spirits just by its presence. A bushy beard framed his wide mouth, and his eyes seemed to twinkle with a mix of mischief and wisdom. He wore a panther skin draped over his shoulders, the tail still attached and hanging down behind him, though some said he had a tail of his own hidden beneath. The statue exuded an aura of strength and benevolence, a fitting tribute to the deity of luck and chance.

You approached the statue, the quiet of the temple wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Kneeling before it, you bowed your head, hands clasped in prayer. The words came naturally, a soft murmur that blended with the silence around you.

Bakugou couldn’t make sense of your prayer; it was spoken in a language entirely foreign to him, its syllables and intonations unfamiliar. He watched as your lips moved, the words flowing smoothly but remaining just out of his reach. The language had an ancient, rhythmic quality, its cadence imbued with a reverence and calm that echoed the tone you used when meditating or talking to yourself. Even though he couldn’t understand it, he couldn’t deny the strange sense of peace it seemed to evoke.

As you prayed, you felt a calmness settle over you, the kind that only came when you were in the presence of something greater. This was why you had come here. To centre yourself, to ask for guidance as you approached the Veil. You knew the dangers that lay ahead, and while you trusted your abilities and those of your companions, a little extra luck never hurt anyone.

Unbeknownst to you, Bakugou had followed your steps, keeping to the shadows as he watched from a distance. His expression was unreadable as he observed you kneeling before the statue, the fervour of your prayer catching him off guard. This was a side of you he hadn’t seen before— devotion, reverence. It was clear now that there was more to you than he had initially thought.

He studied the statue, not really recognising it. But with a few educated guesses based on the decor of the temple, he had an idea that the deity was associated with luck and protection. The fact that you had come here, that you sought out this temple, made Bakugou pause. You weren’t just some aimless wanderer; you had purpose, belief. And while he might not fully trust you yet, this moment planted a seed of understanding.

After a few moments, Bakugou decided he had seen enough. He turned away, leaving the temple quietly, his mind mulling over what he had just witnessed. By the time he returned to the store, the others were already checking out, bags filled with supplies for the road ahead.

Mina glanced at him as he entered. “So? Where did she go?”

Bakugou shrugged, his expression carefully neutral. “Just a temple visit. Nothing suspicious.”

Kirishima gave him a knowing look. “See? Told you to cool it.”

Bakugou grunted in response, still lost in thought as he helped carry the supplies. There was more to you than met the eye, and now, with Niniel’s Veil looming closer, he was beginning to realise that understanding you might be just as important as reaching their destination.

Bakugou knew how to read people, to assess their strengths and weaknesses in battle—but understanding someone’s deeper motivations? That was a different challenge altogether. And you, with your quiet prayers in a secluded temple, had just shown a side of yourself that didn’t quite fit the image he’d built in his mind.

There was more to you than you let on. The same could be said about Bakugou. Both of you carried secrets, hidden beneath layers of guarded demeanors and carefully constructed walls. The truth was, despite all the time spent together on this journey, you had barely scratched the surface of each other. But one thing was becoming clear to him: if this group was going to survive, he had to start trusting you. In that moment, a common draconic phrase came to mind, echoing in his thoughts like a distant memory.

Si mith ti svolben wux sifmid.

I am not what you think.

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a/n: so they're going to the veil in the next chapter and I'm most excited for it because there will be more difficult situations ! @chocogoldie @devils-adversary @l0kisbitch @miikii0

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

#x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou x you #boku no hero academia #bakugou x fem!reader #barbarian bakugo x reader #barbarian bakugou

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